


Only Just

by sansakatara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Grief is ugly, Hoster Tully f+ parenting, Lysa is bitter, Miscarriages, Trauma, and can you blame her to be honest, broken relationships, marital rape, this was a really hard pov to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansakatara/pseuds/sansakatara
Summary: When she hears of how Winterfell has fallen, and that the Greyjoy boy has killed her two nephews, Lysa wants to weep for her sister.  She knows the torment Catelyn must be going through.   Perhaps in a world that had been kinder to Lysa Arryn, she would have.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Arryn/Lysa Tully Arryn, Lysa Tully Arryn & Catelyn Tully Stark, Lysa Tully Arryn & Hoster Tully, Lysa Tully Arryn/Petyr Baelish
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Only Just

I.

283 A.C.

“Robb, meet your Aunt Lysa.” Her sister gently places the babe in Lysa’s arms. Catelyn’s exhaustion is visible in her voice – remnants of the birthing, but pride as well. Catelyn and her lord husband had been together scarcely a fortnight before he had ridden off with Jon Arryn, leaving her behind with nothing but promises. _And she’ll have a son to give him if he comes back. If he falls in battle, he’ll have a son that’ll be his legacy._

Trust her sister to be blessed so quickly when it sometimes took other women over a year and more. Lysa gazes at the red-faced babe, and for a moment she feels as though she is about to retch. This could have been her precious little baby she was holding, not Catelyn’s, the baby she and sweet Petyr made that night – Bursting into tears, Lysa thrust Robb back into Catelyn’s arms. Deaf to Catelyn's startled cries, Lysa fled from the room. 

She knows that Catelyn will go to find her later, but Lysa will not want to see her. She doesn’t want her sister or that horrible Lord Jon Arryn. He was older than even Father, and yet he had excepted her to go to bed with him? She had wept so bitterly she had believed the seven gods would free her, but if the seven heard her they were not merciful, and neither was her father.

_Jon Arryn is an excellent match for a girl that acted as shamelessly as you did. Have I taught you nothing, Lysa? Family, Duty, Honor. When it comes to our house words, duty comes second- because it is the family to which we owe our duty. And you failed our family when you allowed that boy to despoil you as if you were some serving wench, and not a daughter of Riverrun._

Lysa notices how Father never speaks Petyr’s name – instead always referring to him as “that boy”. Catelyn doesn’t speak of him at all. Petyr who had been her father’s ward and who had loved her sister so- they had discarded him so easily. Not Lysa, though. She would not forget Petyr so easily, no matter what lords her father gave her to. Nor would she forget their child either. He would have been so beautiful. Lysa thought with a dull ache. I would have given Petyr a son. Catelyn might be Father’s favourite and better at nearly everything, but she wouldn’t be able to claim that. And neither it seemed, would Lysa.

II.

288 A.C.

It is her fourth pregnancy. She is seven moons gone. A blessed number Lysa thinks - seven for the seven faces of god. _Surely_ that must count for something, Lysa hopes. She knows her husband waits impatiently with bated, _stinking_ breath for the son she will finally give him - but Lysa knows in her heart that she is having a daughter. And although the babe undoubtedly belongs to Jon - the result of all those nights she was trapped beneath the weight of his body, her eyes shut and mind far away- when she dreams, her daughter looks like Petyr.

She is seven moons gone and surely that must mean something. That it will be different, this time.

It isn't.

She awakes suddenly in the middle of the night, to find their bed drenched. Her heart freezes when she realizes what it means.

_No, no, no, no, please-_

It's too early. This is a nightmare, she'll go back to sleep and all will be well. And when she awakes again, she won't be here but a child again in Riverrun. 

Instead, Maester Pycelle aids her in her delivery. Lysa is right - she does give birth to a daughter. Small, beautiful - and dead. It is morning when Pycelle pulls her little girl from her, and it will be before the sun has set that she will be buried, along with a piece of Lysa's heart. For every babe she lost, they took a piece with them.

To his credit, if Jon Arryn blames her for disappointing him once again - he does not show it. He is too honourable for that. But he is thoughtlessly cruel. When Maester Pycelle suggests naming their daughter, stating that it helps some women to do so, Jon squeezes her hand and thanks the Maester who is even older than he is. "We've never named a child yet," he says wistfully. For that Lysa wants to slap him, for _she_ has given a name to every child she has lost. The babes she lost were all named, and loved and wanted- including the first babe she lost all those years ago in Riverrun. The babe that would have been Petyr's, the man she loved still.

III.

289 A.C.

Princess Mrycella is born in the first month of the new year. Later, men will tell Robert Baratheon that the gods sent Mrycella as a sign to herald his victory in defeating the Greyjoys that same year. 

As she is the wife of the Hand of the King, Lysa has the honour to be one of the first to hold the little princess. 

Lysa smiles and pretends happiness for her queen. And maybe a part of her really is happy for Queen Cersei. After all, perhaps the gods will stop torturing her and grant her a child of her own too one day, who will grow up to become close with Mrycella. Like she and Cat. 

But when her husband receives a raven from his former ward that Lysa's sister has given birth to their third child - a healthy girl named Arya, and a sister for their Robb and Sansa - Lysa wants to rage at the terrible unfairness of it all.

Lysa has worked it out, and Arya was born on what would have been her first child's sixth nameday.

IV.

299 A.C.

When she hears of how Winterfell has fallen, and that the Greyjoy boy has killed her two nephews, Lysa wants to weep for her sister. She knows the torment Catelyn must be going through. Perhaps in a world that had been kinder to Lysa Arryn, she would have. 

But she is glad too, as she clutches her Sweetrobin closer to her chest, who is not just her only child but her miracle as well. 

The gods had taken so many children from her.

It was only just that they would take some of Catelyn's away, as well.


End file.
